


"Thoughts Are Worth More After I'm A Gonner"

by RedderThanFire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Multi, platonic, unfinished buisness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4272624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedderThanFire/pseuds/RedderThanFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles dies from a car crash, the Pack is heartbroken. They don't know what to do.<br/>Lydia soon discovers a new Banshee ability; she can call upon the spirit-tether and talk to those who have recently passed.<br/>One night, Stiles's ghost appears to her in her bedroom, asking her to help him say goodbye to the ones he loves before his time is officially up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Thoughts Are Worth More After I'm A Gonner"

_“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”_

Sure enough, ten minutes later and Lydia was running through the hospital doors, searching for her pack. Scott immediately jumped to his feet when he saw her; opening his arms for her to run into.

They had an understanding, Lydia and Scott.

They have both lost the one of the most important people in their lives, and now they were in jeopardy of losing another. They stood hugging for a minute before settling down in two seats, side by side.

Lydia sat quietly in the emergency room, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. Around her, the rest of the pack were in similar states.

Well- _most_ of the pack.

The one that should have been here. The one that kept them all alive thus far, had been trapped in surgery for four hours, and Melissa hadn't given them any news yet.

Living in Beacon Hills, they were all used to deaths by _"animal attacks"_ , or bloodthirsty murderers. They had gotten used to it the hard way; Erica, Boyd, Aiden, _Allison._

None of them would have guessed that they could be in danger from a car crash. They were all supernaturals with a healing factor.

Until they remembered: _Stiles was only human._

And he could die from some god damned drunk driver hitting his blue jeep.

_**The jeep.** _

Lydia now realizes his persistence at keeping the jeep alive; it was an allegory. An allegory for the pack.

_**"I will never abandon this jeep. Ever." ** _

Those words held a hidden meaning, and Lydia curses herself for not picking up on it earlier. He wouldn't abandon what he loves, who he loves. Especially after everything that's happened.

Lydia hadn't noticed she'd been crying until Malia was knelt before her, wiping a tear off of her cheek.

"Its okay." The coyote whispered, her eyes also flushed with tears, her lips twisted into a forced smile. "He's going to be fine."

"How are you so sure?" Lydia asked, the human's girlfriend had never been as academically intelligent as the rest of them, spending eight years as a coyote in the forest doesn't warrant textbooks and classes. But this situation wasn’t academic; it was instinctual.

"You haven't screamed." She said; reaching for the banshee's hand. "If anyone was to know if he'd make it, it would be you."

Lydia squeezed their entwined hands, then glanced over at Scott, who hand his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. Lydia, with her free hand, took one of his hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze as well. Within moments, the entire pack was holding hands, a sort of beacon of hope.

_Hope for Stiles._

Malia was right, if he was in mortal danger, Lydia would be able to tell. She had gotten stronger in the last few months; she no longer fought the urges to scream. She no longer fought the urges to follow the Spirit-Tether to dead bodies.

Smiles went around the circle, and they were all fairly certain that the old lady in the corner of emergency was muttering something about ' _kids and their prayer circles_.' Everyone had started to relax, until Lydia's throat began to burn.

She released Scott and Malia's hands and clawed at her neck. She had never experienced this sensation before. It felt like her esophagus was trying to cough up liquid fire.

"Lydia," Kira's voice came from a distant place. It was becoming difficult to focus. "Lydia do you need some water?"

She shook her head frantically, sweat beading at her hairline. She couldn't open her mouth. If she opened her mouth she knows what will come out.

"Lydia!" It was Scott now, he had wrapped his large hands around her shoulders, using his werewolf powers to try and relieve her pain.

It didn't work.

Her throat was on fire, filling with something that needed to be set free.

" _Lydia...breathe..._ " that time it was his voice, and she knew she was too late. _"Its okay Lyds. Just let it go."_

Unable to hold it in any longer, Lydia Martin fell to the floor and screamed the name of her dearest friend.

* * *

 

The strawberry blonde lay on her mattress, staring up at the ceiling fan that spun around and around, unaffected by that day’s events.

Lydia hated it.

She couldn’t get the faces of the rest of her pack out of her head; shattered, as if nothing would ever be right ever again.

Because it _wouldn’t_ be.

Scott; strong, confident, loyal, _True Alpha_ Scott had suffered a panic attack.

Kira had begun to console her boyfriend, ignoring her own tears.

Issac’s skin had paled, not even he could crack a joke about this.

Liam just kind of sat there, his fingers curled in his palms, the werewolf claws drawing blood.

Derek left the building with Cora, and moments after the doors closed behind them, there was a heartbreaking howl that echoed through the night.

Malia was no where to be found; she probably left when Lydia’s scream split through the ER. Her first human relationship, her first friend had died. Stiles was what originally connected her to the pack.

Stiles had been what connected _everyone_ to the pack.

Sure; Lydia, Kira and Malia were fairly good friends now. But that was because _Stiles_ asked her to be nice to her, help her get used to things. Stiles had been the core of all of Lydia’s relationships since Allison.

There was a thump against the wall, and her bedside lamp began to flicker. And if she lived anywhere else other than Beacon Hills, it wouldn’t mean anything. But Lydia Martin knew better.

There was something in her house.

Grabbing something heavy from her night stand, Lydia got to her feet and checked the windows, her closet, under the bed.

Nothing.

Creaks that sounded similar to footsteps echoed outside of her bedroom door, they paused for a moment before resuming again.

“ _I am not in the fucking mood_.” Lydia thought as she swung the door open. Nothing was there. “ _For god’s sake!_ ”

She turned to go flop back on her bed and cry, but paused when she noticed her blankets all heaped in a pile. She reached to pull the sheet away and the heap pulled it back, it went on for a few rounds before the girl became agitated then shoving the heap on the hardwood floor.

“ _Oomph_ ” The heap grunted, making the hair on Lydia’s neck to stand up. Peeling back the blankets, successfully this time, Lydia’s hazel eyes met with very, _very_ familiar brown ones.


End file.
